Hybrid
by Lynnie76296
Summary: Wolf never imagined volunteering for the government's new soldier program, Hybrid, would mean genetically altering his DNA into something only partially human. He never imagined the creatures where his new DNA came from were the same ones that shifted with the moon in fairy tales. He never imagined he would have to employ the imprisoned Scarlet and her pack to discover the truth.
1. Prologue

The night began with cackling laughter, but ended in hollow gunfire.

Howling to the nearly full moon overhead, their pack of seven huddled in a ring around two fighting members in the center. Saliva dripped from the snarls of pointed canines, as the shirtless fighters circled each other with the yearning of pride as their only motives. Hunger for blood radiated of them in waves as they searched for a hole in the other's defenses.

One must have seen an opening because he lunged for his opponent's abdomen baring his sharp teeth. They tackled each other to the ground, a mesh of wild fists and bruising flesh as they try to pin the other in an inescapable hold. Grunts of pain began to sound more like the growls of wild beasts barely drowned out by the on looking crowd's hollering for a victor.

Falling back after a hard right hook to the jaw, one of the fighting boys stumbled with a bloody lip. His black hair was spiked from sweat that came off in his hand along with the crimson that dripped down his chin. He grinned in response, but she could see past the mask of enjoyment plastered on his face. His eyes flickered to their glowing slits a moment before the other boy charged.

Grabbing one of his opponent's hands in an iron grip, the black-haired boy used the other's moment to throw him over his shoulder and the heads of the mulling bystanders. His back crashed into one of the brick walls boxing in the alleyway where they stood. Coughing up a splatter of blood, the other boy managed to pick himself off the damp ground with enough rage to send the two sprawling again.

"That's enough," she ordered, the circle splitting at her words. Malice reluctantly faded from the proclaimed loser as her words were obsolete. Unwrapping his fists, he relaxed his body to show his eagerness to fight was gone, however, his deadly glare remained trained on the black-haired boy.

When it was clear the fight was over, the hoots rose up once again, fed by the adrenaline brought on by the brawl for power. Bodies collided – bumping chests, bumping shoulders – as the excitement of the outcome reached every member huddled in the alley – all but the loser, of course. While he played off his loss as gracefully as he could, she approached the winner with a clap on the back.

"The Beta stays," she congratulated earning a cocky grin in thanks.

"Was there ever any question?" he shot back, jokingly.

She laughed, but the sound was short lived. Before she could give her friend a reply, her ears picked up an unusual sound over the deafening cheering surrounding her. Not far enough off, footsteps echoed down empty streets, their movements a rhythmic marching like the heartbeat of one organism. Tens – hundreds – flooding toward them, with every other step taken a clicking sound blending with their stomping feet.

At her pause, all ears became alert to the noise. Like her, they were all mystified to the source and reason as to why it hunkered down the streets in the dead of night. Any feelings of joy they once possessed had long gone, leaving them silent and anxiously awaiting a sign to fight or flight.

After realizing the only thing the noise could be, she wasted no time giving orders. "Scatter!" she shouted, feet already treading across the gravel. Her comrades wasted no time either, darting down each way of the alley as fast as they could while keeping their ears open to the oncoming strangers.

A few scurried up the fire escape and found themselves leaping over the rooftops. They each took a different direction as ordered by their leader, who made her own way dashing through the maze of backstreets. On the buildings alongside her, one of their group ran following the paths she took. A side glance in his direction revealed it to be the black-haired boy trailing her steps to match his own.

"Herd up the others and regroup at the Stones!" she yelled to his near-flying form.

The look on his face signaled he wanted to protest, but she turned in the opposite direction before he could. While hunting in groups was a safer endeavor, not even all of the together could take on the numbers headed their way. And on the off chance confrontation was inevitable, losing one of them was better than losing all.

She hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. She hoped they were just patrolling through the streets on some kind of training simulation and that if she kept running she'd stay out of their way. She hoped that the metallic clicking she heard was not the weapons her imagination made them out to be.

Gunfire split into the night and forced her feet to pad down the narrow lanes faster until her muscles cried out in pain. Lungs gasping for breath over her raspy panting, her body could no longer retain its human mindset. Instinct took over logical thought until the running became thrilling rather than necessary. The exhilarating feeling of wind whipping her hair out of her face–

Her feet skidded to a stop inches before she collided with a solid brick wall. A dead end.

Shaking the animal from her mind until it was unclouded, she tried wrapping her thoughts around how she ended up at a stop. She knew the maze of the city as well as she knew the inside of her own house and yet there she stood gapping. Then she remembered – turning away from her friend sent her down to the south part of downtown, while her feet carried her through the labyrinth as if she was still on the east side.

Footsteps drawing closer, she decided to judge the height of the building rather than retrace her steps. Three hundred feet, she guessed. She would have to use the other walls as leverage to make it to the top and with luck the rough brick would give her enough grippage. With a running start, she leaped onto the left wall to push off onto the back wall. Her hands found the roof's ledge and clasped on so she could pull herself up.

Three pairs of polished boots met her line of sight and shocked her into releasing her tight grip on the wall. Splashing into a puddle as her feet landed her in a crouch, she gazed up at the looming soldiers only to have the retched clicking fill her ears. Cornering her in the dead end, a line of weapons pointed at her head attached to the arms of soldiers mirroring the ones on the roof overhead.

"Surrender," one of the soldiers ordered with an arrogant voice. She could see in his eyes that he knew what she was – and was itching to see what she could become. Remembering the words she relayed to her companions a thousand times in fear of capture, she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her change.

At the same time, wolves never surrendered.

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**I should not be starting this while working on _Snow_, but the idea struck me and refused to leave me until I wrote it down.**

**Thank you for taking a peek at this story. I hope you enjoyed and please review!**


	2. Post-Operation Day One

The darkness lifted to whiteness as Ze'ev pried open his cemented eyelids. He awoke to a single light hanging directly over him bright enough to challenge the sun. Forced to turn away before he went blind, he tried clearing the fog of lethargy in his head by finding out where he was. Tiles lined the white ceiling that led to plain white walls and a plain white floor. Even the hard chair he felt under his limp body turned out to be sheeted in white paper to hide the silver metal.

As he attempted to sit up for a better view, he found himself strapped by his chest to his seat. Struggling for freedom against the metal bar, he discovered another contraption keeping him locked in place. A thick tube inserted in his elbow attached him to a plastic bag full of clear liquid. Water or drugs? Ze'ev had no idea.

Fighting to remember anything of relevance, he found his memory to be as blank as the room around him. The harder he pressed his head to cooperate with him the more he felt a pain throb at the tip of his forehead. Blinking away the ache, it soon became apparent his headache would only dull, never leave. The thought frustrated him, until he remembered the pain used to be all over and much worse.

He clutched his head and grit his teeth, refusing to scream out as the memory of agony washed over him. Pressure strangling the insides of his skull, hundreds of sharp objects piercing through his skin and tearing as he jerked away, and a burning throughout his body like thousands of fire ants running through his veins instead of blood. Pressing the memories, he was met with more blackness blotching his mind.

Gripping the side of the chair with all his might, he fought back his own hysteria settling in. Deep breaths kept his head from exploding as long as he cleared his thoughts of all memory. It would seem his mysterious past was not going to come back all at once. If it came back at all.

At that he looked down to where his hand gripped the chair's edge. A full imprint of his hand bit into the thick metal.

Ze'ev's eyes widened, now the hysteria could not be contained, as the white door to his cell opened. A stout, balding older man stepped in with a puckish grin tugging at his faint wrinkles. His long coat only added more whiteness to the room as did the guest at his side. Sharp edges and defined lines, the stiff-backed stranger wore a uniform glinting with golden pins and buttons.

His harsh nearly-black eyes seemed to grimace at everything in the room, except, surprisingly, Ze'ev himself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, relaxing himself for the briefest moment. Genuinely confounded, Ze'ev could only stare back with no answer.

The older man gave a small frown, "General, I will be asking the questions around here. Try not to confuse him."

"Who are you?" Ze'ev inquired, darting back and forth between the two.

The older one responded, "My name is Dr. Erland. I was the one who managed your procedure."

"Procedure?"

In surprise, the uniformed one cast a glance at the doctor which he didn't return. The answer seemed to be expected by him as he brought out a clipboard and began scribbling nonsense. "You volunteered to be a part of the new soldier program, Hybrid. Unfortunately, amnesia is a common side effect in the other participants as well."

_Others?_ There were others, like him, chained to a chair and being questioned by strangers?

"Will he ever get it back?" the General asked on Ze'ev's behalf. There was a hitch in his voice wondering if there was cause to be hopeful.

"It's difficult to say. Some patients have gotten all their memories back, others have received nothing but their own name. Most will have flashes here and there and hopefully, with time, will be able to make sense of them."

"Although," the doctor paused a moment and flipped through some pages of his clipboard. "I have written here that under the contract agreement he signed, he _wanted_ his memory erased during the procedure."

The General's mouth tightened into a thin line, like he was remembering something grim.

Ze'ev's head pounded as he tried unweaving the tangled mess of thoughts running through his mind. What could have been so horrible in his life that he _wanted_ his memory to be black pits? He couldn't even imagine something, let alone remember it for himself.

"Either way," Dr. Erland continued. "We'll need to – what is it you soldiers say? _Debrief_ – you on your general information."

The doctor went down a list of things written on his clipboard while the younger man at his side stayed quiet, patiently listening. Among the riveting tale of his life's story, his mind buzzed with other thoughts tumbling around his skull. At least his subconscious was aware enough to make four bits of useful information.

His name, which he partially remembered, was Ze'ev Kelsey.

He wouldn't be able to keep that name for long.

He had been a part of the French Military since he was sixteen and quickly rose to the top of his class.

His brother, who fell in his shadow, was not as impressive.

"Cadet Kelsey also joined the militia shortly after you," the General informed with an indifferent frown. "Barely passed the pre-procedure operation."

A faint image tingled within Ze'ev's head, blurred and spotty like the rest of his memory. Familiarity surrounded the being; not a picture, but a presence that made his stomach squirm with unease. Guilt, he recognized; he felt guilt for feeling things other than love towards this strange brother.

"Does that mean he's like me?" Ze'ev questioned, not exactly sure what _he_ was like.

The doctor nodded. "Woke up from his operation six hours ago. Memory completely intact."

"And pretty damn pleased about it," the General grumbled under his breath. There was something there, on the edge of his tongue, that was too sharp for someone talking about a comrade. It reminded Ze'ev more of a tone one would take up when talking about a tick that refused to release its grip, even when being burned off.

"I can see you are still rather confused," Dr. Erland supposed with a sympathetic smile. "That is completely understandable. You just spent the last ninety-six hours either on the operating table or in an unstable coma. Not to mention your memories of even agreeing to such an extensive alteration are in shambles."

A shudder passed over Ze'ev, one meant to erect every hair on his body into an alerted state. That word. It made his body rigid and sounded like nails scraping across a worn chalkboard to his ears. His voice came out deeper and huskier than he remembered, than it was earlier. "Alteration?"

As way of answering, the doctor crossed to the opposite side of the room where a white desk nestled itself as far away from Ze'ev's chair as it could. He slipped his hand into one of the drawers where something glinted, an act that sent Ze'ev's instincts into a frenzy. His back arched in an attempt to sit up, straining the metal bar around him to its limit. Snapping at the edges, it clattered to the floor as the room's patrons watched its slow decent into motionless.

He expected the faces around his to twist in anger and try to restrain him once again. However, the eyes of the doctor and the General showed nothing but pride as they shared wide smiles. At his side, Dr. Erland moved the object he retrieved from the desk into view; a polished mirror entranced with the tiled floor.

"You were genetically altered and bred to be the fiercest warriors this world has ever soon. The government has called your special unit, Hybrid. We have faith that you will destroy the enemy plaguing our streets for the past millennia. Ironically, it is the same beast whose blood now mixes with your own."

Dread began filling up in Ze'ev's stomach, as if the new blood the doctor spoke of reacted to being called beastly. "What beast is that?" _What have you done to me?_ Another voice not entirely unlike his own echoed in his mind.

For an answer, Dr. Erland raised the mirror to reveal someone as foreign to Ze'ev as the men around him. Rather than trying to recognize the features that held some familiarity to them, he found himself staring at the glowing gold eyes more animal than human.

"Werewolf."

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**This story will be mostly centered on Wolf and Scarlet, but all the main Lunar Chronicles characters will make an appearance.**

**Chapter 3 is on its way! You can expect it up in the next few weeks. I just noticed a few mistakes and had to fix them.**

**ssapaugh08: My first reviewer for _Hybrid_! Thank you so much! I would be honored if you read _Snow_ as well :)**

**Thank you to my favoriter and 3 followers! This update is for you guys!**

**Please keep reading and reviewing everybody!**


	3. Post-Operation Day Two

Every noise that lit up the city's after hours drove his senses into a frenzy. Every clang of wine glasses after a romantic dinner, every buzz of a scooter turning around the sidewalk slightly over the speed limit, every ring of shop doors opening and closing for their last customers of the evening. The night was alive with sound, and it kept Ze'ev tossing and turning in his cramped stationary room.

The living arrangements were apparently temporary, at least until the nurses that checked up on him every hour were certain he had a healthy recovery. At ten, they finally decided he wouldn't spontaneously combust in the middle of the night and left him alone. It perplexed him, their concern. If the procedure had worked on many other squadrons of soldiers as the General had stated, what did they have to worry about?

Then again, they did seem overly excited that he had come out of the operation _alive_.

Throwing off the limp covers of his bed, Ze'ev sat up to rest his feet on the cool, carpet flooring. Deep breaths filled his lungs while his head rested in his hands, still feeling the effects of whatever drugs they pumped through his veins. Across the way, a floor-length mirror matched his movements with a ragged image of himself. He may not have remembered exactly how he used to look, but the rumpled, partial man mimicking his movements felt too strange to be familiar.

_Your eyes should adjust after a while_, the doctor had said. And they had; now the ones watching his movements in the mirror were bright green with less dilated pupils. Somehow, they still seemed to be the eyes of a stranger.

Dark hair hung down to the tips of his ears, matching the color of sprouting hairs on his chin. Scars, in varying degrees of fading, mapped out the history he had in the army – some even looked fairly recent. Most of the shapes he recognized – basic cuts from blades and bullets – yet the long stripes dragging down the left side of his chest came from something unrecognizable – something living. Something inhuman.

Footsteps interrupted the fragmented memories swamping his mind. Military boots, he judged by their heavy, bulky sound, only ten yards from his doorstep where he guessed they were headed.

It almost scared him how acute his senses had become.

Digging his nails – or _claws_ – into the edge of the bed fiercely enough to tear holes, Ze'ev braced himself for coming knock. Three short bangs echoed through the small room and sent his eardrums buzzing. Flecks of gold danced across his reflection's eyes, pulsing with the heavy thrum of his heart, but disappeared as quickly as they had come.

Hairs prickled on alert, Ze'ev stalked to the pale door separating him from his mysterious guest. Through the speck of glass that served as a peep hole, he made out the uniformed figure his muscles remembered more than his mind. As if ordered to do so, his body relaxed at the sight of the General waiting stiffly to be greeted.

Ze'ev swung the door open only to have white fabrics thrown at his face. Carelessly, he caught them just as the General swept passed him and into the room without invitation. Plopping down on the bed earning a pleading creak from the frame, he grinned up at Ze'ev as if he was an old friend whose visits were never announced, but always welcome.

"Ready to get back into action?" he asked. Too occupied with the clothing in his hands, Ze'ev only just caught sight of the boots and belt dropped at his feet. Thick, smelling of the real black leather they were sewn from.

To Ze'ev's surprise, he felt a warm anticipation fill his stomach at the prospect. Half was the thought of getting to do something other than sit there with needles being stuck in and out of his arms – the other half was the muscle memory of his enjoyment being a soldier.

"Unfortunately, you'll have to go back to being a Cadet." He gave a half-smile as if they were sharing a private joke. "Sorry, Captain Kelsey."

_So he used to be a Captain_, he recalled faintly as the General frowned. "Actually, that isn't your name anymore either. Those who now belong to Hybrid are required to take on a sort-of nickname. Think of it as a new name for a new you."

Ze'ev snorted, a sound not unlike a wolf's growl. Quickly changing into his uniform, he couldn't help but notice the subtle differences between his and the Generals. Silver accents instead of gold, the lack of metals that covered the whole of the General's chest, and a patch on his arm that held the silhouette of a wolf instead of the militia's crest. Where his name should have neatly embroidered there was nothing but blank fabric hungry for decoration.

The General barely gave him the chance to make himself presentable before marching out the door, an expectation for Ze'ev to follow hanging in the air. Annoyance itched the back of his neck – something told him he didn't like being rugged. Nevertheless, he wasn't a soldier that disobeyed orders. At least he hoped he wasn't.

Nipping at the General's heels, Ze'ev rubbed the sleep from his face and sighed. "I wouldn't even know what to call myself," he remarked, mostly to himself.

The General heard his comment and had Ze'ev wondering if he too had the operation. "Good thing you don't get a say in the matter then. As the acting general of the Hybrid Unit, it'll be my job to name you."

Down three flights of stairs the General escorted him, no words spoken about where they were going. Ze'ev noticed the other bodies cloaked in uniform, cautious stares quickly dart to the ground when they made eye contact, as they marched around. Two metal doors slid apart to their left, revealing a matted floor and sparring soldiers. Another, thicker door split apart to reveal walls coated in several kinds of weapons. _A training center_, he noted.

"How about Wolf?"

Ze'ev's head spun around at the General's comment to find the man steeping into a large elevator. Stepping in curiously, his eyes instantly fell to the buttons for at least a clue towards their destination. His nerves pulsed at the word BASEMENT as the only available floor.

"After all, you are known as the soldier with the most werewolf deaths under your belt." The General clarified, flashing a clear card over a scanner. In response, the elevator hummed to life, slamming the doors and making a quick descent into the earth. Ze'ev felt the cocktail of chemicals in his veins churn at the sudden lurch, a feeling he forced down with effort.

"Am I?" he asked as they plunged more than one floor level. How far down was this 'basement'?

The General chuckled. "Forty-eight so far. And by werewolf standards," he winked, "That's a lot."

Abruptly the lift stopped, shaking the ground underneath the two men's feet. Were they not soldiers trained and adept to their surrounds the movement would have sent them both sprawling. Ze'ev didn't know what laid behind the iron elevator doors with so many questions buzzing through his mind and little to no answers.

But nothing in his wildest imagination could predict the chaos unfolding as soon as the doors parted.

Six soldiers huddled around a cloaked being, thrashing with wild movements beyond Ze'ev's line of vision. More flooded into the mass as whatever was trying to be tamed refused any form of containment. Between soldiers being thrown as if they were flimsy pieces of straw, he caught hands contorted by huge talons and fists flying faster than any of the soldiers could match. Flashes of red peeked over the soldiers head as the creature in the middle fought with skills unlike Ze'ev had ever seen.

At his side, the General was barking orders, harsh and ruthless. _Put a muzzle on that thing! Clamp its hands down! For God's sake men, restrain that beast!_ Ze'ev could barely register if the orders were meant for him because he finally caught sight of what the soldiers were trying to capture.

A girl with fire in her hair and hunger in her eyes.

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**I was so excited to get this chapter up I forgot my Author Note :)**

**The next chapter will more than likely be up around the same time as _Snow's_ next chapter.**

**A huge thanks to my reviewers! All reviews are greatly appreciated! Sometimes I need to be scolded for an update :)**

**Guest: I know, I know! I'm terrible! I meant to have it up a _long_ time ago and then life slapped me hard across the face. The next chapter will be up much sooner because its already partially finished. (Feel free to get on my case again if I don't)**

**Weirdnessextreme13: Yes, yes I know. I am more than sorry about the wait! I took an unexpected break from all my stories when my life got really busy. Hopefully, it won't be for much longer and I can write to my heart's desire.**

**Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing!**


	4. Post-Operation Day Three

The girl whisked wildly around as a circle of soldiers closed in, some with weapons drawn and others barking orders she paid no mind. Her eyes glowed with fury as she balled her fists for a second round of fighting. A growl – husky and beastlike – escaped her lips as she scanned the hateful eyes of her captors. When she bared her teeth, Ze'ev could see long, saliva-coated canines that could barely fit in her mouth.

But that wasn't what kept his feet planted in place as if they were bolted into the floor. Something about the girl struck him like a bolt of lightning in his veins, a shock that refused to let his body even twitch. A headache bloomed in the back of his head as he tried to latch onto what about the girl felt . . . odd. But the more he pursued the thought, the more his head pounded with an aching pain.

"_Wolf!_"

The General's voice broke through Ze'ev's thoughts and alerted him to the situation. Three soldiers had their arms fastened around the girl while another two tried binding her with handcuffs. After a moment, he realized the General was asking him to help restrain the girl.

With a soldier's instinct, he followed the orders and approached warily. The girl was still thrashing against the other soldiers and managed to give a few bloodied lips and noses. While she kicked and snarled, the General took out a pair of steel cuffs and began pressing the buttons along the sides. Electric handcuffs, Ze'ev recognized.

"I'll need you to restrain that thing long enough for me to get these on it." The General said in a tone meant solely for giving orders.

_Thing. _Of course, this girl must have been a werewolf. Beady eyes, claws and fangs – everything about her screamed animal. Despite knowing that fact, Ze'ev still felt discomfort at referring to the girl as an _it_.

"How am I supposed to do that, sir?" he asked with the remorseless voice of a loyal soldier.

The General gave a dry grin. "You're the hybrid – what would retain you?"

Ze'ev had forgotten momentarily that the new blood in his veins was the very same that pumped through the red-haired girl's. That must have been why his instincts sparked just by looking at the girl. At least, that was what he told himself.

Brushing aside all thoughts other than his orders, Ze'ev finally analyzed the situation. The girl's motivation: breaking free. Her attributes: heightened strength, acute senses, and animal physicality. Her disadvantages: outnumbered 1 to 100.

He couldn't decide if her refusal to surrender was an advantage or not.

Ze'ev took a moment to recall his own, newly-modified body for a moment. Where he would strike in her position – and more importantly, where he wouldn't want to be struck.

"Her abdomen," Ze'ev reported to the General. "Right over her kidneys. She'll collapse onto herself and give us enough time to latch on the handcuffs."

"And how should we go about doing that?" the General asked seriously.

Ze'ev narrowed his eyes at the girl as she flung a soldier across the room with one kick. "Distraction. She's only attacking those in her immediate line of sight or ones grabbing hold of her."

The General smiled, pleased with the plan. "Then I'll leave the distracting to you, Cadet Wolf."

Something deep inside of Ze'ev perked up at the prospect of getting into a fight. A growl escaped the depths of his throat before he could stop it. _Excitement?_ Was that what he was feeling? Excitement to fight with a girl half his size and already beaten by the hands of a hundred cruel soldiers?

His stomach turned. But his adrenaline spiked.

On the General's order, Ze'ev crept his way through the ring of other soldiers and made his way near the front. The girl had already tossed a dozen soldiers aside – bloody and disfigured, but mostly alive – and was skirting her sights around for her next opponent. Her hands were almost as red as her hoodie, staining her arms in splatter up to her elbows.

Up close, he could see how bright her eyes were glowing. They were the same gold eyes he saw in the mirror after his operation; alight with something that wasn't human. His new sense of smell picked up the waft of animal coming off of her and his own inner wolf shifted in response. It took all his restraint to keep his animal nature within him as he prepared the attack.

He noticed the General moving stealthily behind the girl and he saw his opportunity. Baring his teeth that had grown twice their original size, Ze'ev stepped out into the center of the ring.

The other soldiers parted ways as he snarled and a few actually moved their weapons in his direction. He didn't care. He barely noticed. His focus was trained solely on the thrashing red-haired girl and getting her attention.

It didn't happen like he thought it would.

She snapped around, teeth bared and claws at the ready. Ze'ev's instincts urged him to pounce, but his soldier thoughts kept him grounded. Wait for her to come to him. He prepared for her to lunge at him and widened his stance so he'd be able to take on the full force of her blow.

But instead, she faltered. Her eyes dimmed and her growl was lost in her chest. She stood staring at him in – shock? Shouldn't it have been fear? – while her body moved little more than lowering herself into a slight crouch. Her weight shifted to her back leg and put another centimeter of space between them.

Ze'ev recognized the stance instantly. _She was backing off_.

His animal subsided from his bafflement of the situation – despite how vulnerable that should have left him. Instead, the earlier alertness burning in his insides had become little less than a dying flame. She wasn't going to attack him; every nerve in his body was telling him as much.

He only wished they would tell him _why_.

Suddenly, Ze'ev's thoughts were cut off as the General took the moment of surprise between them as his opportunity. Leaping out from the crowd, the General aimed straight for the weak spot Ze'ev had mentioned. His fist barreled into her side with bone-cringing crack and the girl grunted as her legs gave out from the impact.

Within seconds, the General was on the girl and pinning her to the ground with the skills only a general could possess. Before she could even throw one punch at him, he had her wrists bolted tightly in his electric restraints and her body held down by other soldiers. It didn't matter; she wouldn't move as long as the fear of electricity remained locked around her wrists.

"This one's feisty," the General snickered as he lifted himself off of her. Weakened by his punch, her eyes had returned to their natural brown color and all remnants of her werewolf form had been washed away. "Get it up."

Two nearby soldiers hoisted the girl to her feet – or, more accurately, to her knees. One thing that hadn't changed form was the menacing glare she directed toward the General as he looked down on her.

"Take it to the cells," the General ordered harshly. Any trace of the joking personality Ze'ev had seen earlier was gone. "I want it ready to talk by morning."

In a last moment of rebellion, the girl spit at the General, earning her a swift knee to her stomach. Ze'ev felt his own body clench as she coughed up a spatter of blood onto the floor.

As the two guards made off with her, the General moved to Ze'ev's side and clamped a congratulatory hand on his back. Ze'ev barely reacted; his eyes were too focused on the girl casting him a lingering glance over her shoulder as she was dragged away. Only when they had turned the corner and out of sight, did he turn his attention back to the General.

"Nicely done, Wolf," the General applauded. "You'll be climbing the ranks in no time."

Ze'ev imagined a long time ago, he would have beamed at hearing such praise from his commanding officer. He would have craved the envious and respectful glares of his comrades. He would have felt proud for defending his brethren from a deadly threat.

But Ze'ev didn't remember that time. And all he felt now was the aching suspicion that he knew that werewolf.

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**This story was _dying_ for an update. So here it is!**

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